


Bond. Magical Bond

by cuteashale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Gen, Humor, magically bound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteashale/pseuds/cuteashale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Son, I thought it was a little strange when you came running out of the station with me but this is really pushing it."</p><p>John looks down at the deputy who, for the past minute or so, has been doing his darnedest to crawl into the driver’s seat of his car. Now, that wouldn't be so strange if John wasn't, in fact, sitting in it at the time.</p><p>Parrish squints. “I’m…I really… Sir, I’m not sure what exactly is happening but I can’t seem to- Well. I can’t seem to be more than two feet from you at all times.” His cheeks are red and John really can’t blame him for being embarrassed. He’s nearly sitting in his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bond. Magical Bond

**Author's Note:**

> For [Caitlin](http://reedfulton.tumblr.com) because she's the greatest.

"Son, I thought it was a little strange when you came running out of the station with me but this is really pushing it."

John looks down at the deputy who, for the past minute or so, has been doing his darnedest to crawl into the driver’s seat of his car. Now, that wouldn't be so strange if John wasn't, in fact, sitting in it at the time.

Parrish squints. “I’m…I really… Sir, I’m not sure what exactly is happening but I can’t seem to- Well. I can’t seem to be more than two feet from you at all times.” His cheeks are red and John really can’t blame him for being embarrassed. He’s nearly sitting in his lap.

"Well," John says slowly, putting a hand on Parrish’s chest to press him backward as he steps out of the car. "I suppose you’re coming over for dinner, then. Go on and crawl in. I’m right behind you," he reassures. 

They manage to get into the car without incident and the close proximity seems to set Parrish at ease. That ease only lasts as long as it takes to reach his house.

Getting out of the car is even trickier than getting into it was. Parrish skids across the hood of the car when John steps out and starts walking toward the front door too quickly for him to catch up. John eyes him like he’s insane and, honestly, Parrish is a little bit worried that he might be. None of this is making any sense.

"I bet this has something to do with a kanima," John mutters to himself, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. Parrish bumps straight into his back when he stops at the bottom of the stairs and John sighs, resigning himself to another very long night.

 

~*~

 

Stiles looks at him like he's grown another head when he says Parrish is spending the night. Maybe it's a little cruel to be so amused by the look of horror on his son's face as his eyes dart between he and his deputy. 

"It's not like that," Parrish is quick to explain. John places his holster and gun on the counter and tries not to smile at the blush on his deputy's cheeks. "We're - there's something wrong." That gets Stiles' attention and he narrows his eyes at Parrish.

"Something wrong, how?" he accuses. John holds up a hand before any interrogating can take place.

"It's probably-. You know." He raises his eyebrows at his son until Stiles' lips part in understanding. He grins then, and smacks Parrish on the arm. 

"I made chicken for dinner. You two go have a seat."

 

~*~

 

Dinner is...interesting.

When John takes his seat at the table and Stiles drops down across from him, Parrish frowns. There's two seats left at the table but both are positioned just a little bit too far away from John for his liking. He sits down anyway and a minute later he's scooting his chair across the floor until his elbow and John's are nearly touching.

Stiles presses his lips together and ducks his head to hide his laughter while John rubs a hand over his face.

"Sorry," Parrish apologizes, looking uncomfortable. "It was just, uh, too far." Stiles snorts quietly and stuffs chicken in his mouth so he's not tempted to say anything.

If John finds the feel of Parrish's arm against his comforting, no one needs to know.

 

~*~

 

If dinner was interesting, going to bed is just awkward.

They clean up after dinner together - John and Stiles have a long standing arrangement that whoever doesn't cook cleans up afterward - and that goes perfectly fine. Parrish washes the plates until they gleam and John dries them and puts them away where they belong.

It's after they finish cleaning up that things get a little tricky.

Stiles bids them goodnight from the living room where he's set himself up with a bowl of popcorn and a movie and John leads the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. He won't lie and say it doesn't feel strange to be bringing someone else in here. After all these years, the only person besides himself that's stepped through the doorway has been Stiles. This was a room for he and Claudia only and nearly a decade after she's passed he still doesn't bring anyone in here.

Parrish seems to sense the suddenly somber mood and John wonders for the first time just how deep this strange magical bond runs. He doesn't feel a thing but if the way Parrish subtly leans into his space and lets their shoulders touch is anything to go by, Parrish certainly does.

"The bathroom is straight through there," John says finally, pointing to a door on the left. "There's an extra toothbrush under the sink and I have some sweatpants you can borrow." It occurs to him for the first time that they're going to be sharing a bed tonight. It might a little pathetic to some people but he hasn't shared a bed with anyone since Claudia. He doesn't know why he's thinking like this, it's not like Parrish is trying to replace her. He's his  _deputy_ , for God's sake, what was John even thinking?

Parrish walks toward the bathroom with a nod but stop about three feet away and turns halfway to face John. "Um," he starts. "Could you, maybe...take a few steps forward?" John furrows his brow slightly and steps forward, following after Parrish as he carefully steps the rest of the way toward the bathroom. He slips inside and closes the door and John stands still for a minute, rocks on his heels once, and then takes a step away from the bathroom.

Then another.

He manages about five steps before Parrish comes flying out of the bathroom toward him, wild eyed with his hair fluffed up in every direction. "Sheriff, please," he gasps, breathless. "I think five feet is our limit."

John places both hands on Parrish's shoulders - he's just wearing his undershirt now and he looks softer, younger out of uniform - and squeezes reassuringly. "Sorry, son. Just testing the reins. Let's try again." Parrish lets out a relieved breath and heads back into the bedroom, resisting every urge he has to look over his shoulder and make sure John is following him.

He doesn't feel an uncomfortable pull in his chest again, thank goodness, and when he steps out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and his uniform folded in his hands, John is leaning up against the wall beside the door.

They switch places and John disappears into the bathroom, leaving Parrish to look around the room they'll be sharing. He tries not to take too long but he's a little worried. This will be the first time he's sharing a bed with someone since his wife passed. Stiles used to sleep in his bed when he was younger, when he still needed him to protect him from nightmares, but that stopped by the time he was twelve.

"Get a grip, Stilinski." He stares himself in the mirror after he brushes his teeth and shakes his head. There's nothing romantic about this arrangement. They're stuck together and they're both adults. He needs to get ahold of himself and start acting like one.

After scrubbing a hand down his face, he steps out of the bathroom and offers Parrish an easy smile. "Ready for bed, deputy?"

"Yes sir," Parrish answers almost instantly and John chuckles. He claps Parrish on the shoulder and shakes him gently. 

"None of that, son. Just call me John, alright? I'm off-duty tonight and so are you." Parrish smiles and walks with John toward the bed, dropping his clothes onto the floor beside what he assumes is his side of the bed - since John walks toward the other side - before he crawls into it. John can't help thinking he looks like a completely different person out of his uniform. He's so used to seeing him in the office and out in the field that seeing him looking comfortable and relaxed is just odd. He shakes his head a little at himself and crawls into bed on the other side before settling onto his back.

The bed is big enough that their shoulders don't touch lying side by side like this. John closes his eyes and breathes easy, pleased to find that it doesn't feel too strange to have another person in bed with him. He thought it would be strange to know that someone - not his wife, not his son - is lying in bed beside him, but it's not. He isn't used to all the moving around though, and after the sixth wiggle in less than half that many minutes, he opens his eyes and looks over at Parrish. "Something the matter?" he wonders.

Parrish avoids his eyes. "No s- John. I'm just... Would you mind if I moved closer?" John eyes him for a second before shrugging his shoulders and patting the space beside him. Grateful, Parrish scoots over and settles with his arm touching John's. It's like at dinner once again and John drifts off to sleep with Parrish's weight against his side.

 

~*~

 

He wakes up in the morning with Parrish's breath on the back of his neck.

It's early enough that the birds outside are still chirping and John can just see morning light coming in through the window. Parrish is warm against his back, a solid weight that he might have found enjoyable if he didn't have to use the bathroom.  Very carefully, as slowly as he can manage so as not to wake Parrish, John rolls onto his stomach and eases his way out from under Parrish's arm.

He slips out of bed with a yawn and gets to the end of the bed before he hears Parrish groan and the bed squeak as he levers himself upright. "Five feet," he moans, sounding sleepy and petulant. John curses softly and takes a step backward. Parrish immediately flops back down onto the mattress and spreads out, arms and legs stretching across the bed.

"Oh no," John says, reaching out and curling one hand around the ankle that's sticking out from under the bed. He gives it a tug. "No you don't. Up, get up. I'm going to the bathroom and I guess you're coming with me." Parrish whines - it's not cute, John tells himself firmly - and rolls off of the bed with a huff, feet hitting the floor seconds later. He heaves himself out of bed and shuffles across the carpet, eyes half closed, a grumpy frown on his face. John opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes his mouth.

He turns and heads for the bathroom again, stopping Parrish with a hand in the center of his chest when he automatically starts to follow him inside. Pliant as he is, Parrish just hums and leans against the doorframe, head propped up against it. John does his business and washes his hands before trailing out of the bathroom and nudging Parrish to walk with him. "Back to bed, son," he says gently, palm pressed to Parrish's back to steer him in the right direction.

Parrish doesn't protest, doesn't even say a word, just flops face first into the pillows and falls almost instantly back to sleep. John stares at him a moment, chuckles softly. He climbs back into bed and lays down and, this time, Parrish doesn't ask before wiggling across the sheets and throwing an arm and leg over John's body.

John smiles and wraps his arm around Parrish's back, palm passing back and forth between his shoulder blades as Parrish signs and snuggles closer.

They're no closer to figuring out exactly what this bond between them is or how it's going to affect them. They don't know how long it's going to last or what started it in the first place. They don't even know if it's something that can be fixed, but so far it hasn't hurt anyone and neither of them are any worse for wear so maybe, just maybe... It isn't so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://halebutts.tumblr.com) .


End file.
